The Life and Opinions of Ser Justin Massey, Knight
by ariel2me
Summary: Ser Justin Massey recounts Stannis Baratheon's war for the Iron Throne, with multiple digressions and diversions, mainly about himself. Spoilers until The Winds of Winter sample chapter. Title inspired by "The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman."
1. Chapter 1

**The Life and Opinions of Ser Justin Massey, Knight**

**Chapter I **

The name is Massey, Ser Justin Massey. The first you may have heard of me in this great tale of the War of the Five Kings was during the battle of Blackwater Bay, where I saved King Stannis from certain death, forcing him off the battlefield once all hope for victory was lost. I have long suspected, however, that the King hold a grudge against Horpe and myself for this act, though he never said as much until some time later. Knowing his iron will and ferocity, doubtless he would have preferred to stay and die fighting. But there, gentle reader, I am getting ahead of myself. This is a long, involved, and complicated tale, and it would not do to skip ahead and jump around. In all things, we must be methodical.

You may have also heard tales of my unbridled ambition from various sources. Now dear reader, you would do well to consider who those sources are, their own situation in life, and what might be gained by telling such tales about myself. I leave it in your hands to judge the "truthfulness" of those tales.

From the boy commander of the Night's Watch, you may have also heard tales of my ambition to become Lord of Winterfell. I confess, dear reader, that I did bring up the subject with His Grace, one freezing afternoon on the Wall after our great victory against the wildlings. But it was only because Richard Horpe had made the same request earlier in the day. The history of my contentious relationship with _that_ particular gentleman is too long and complicated in nature to recount in this short introduction, but rest assured, I will describe each and every harm he has ever done me, in full, in subsequent chapters. You will understand why I did what I did then.

There, I seem to have gotten ahead of myself again. Why were we at the Wall in the first place, I hear you ask? We were there because the Black Brothers called for us. More accurately, called for King Stannis to help protect the Wall from an attack by the wildling force, led by the man calling himself "The King Beyond the Wall". Or even more accurately – because I am determined to be the one bringing you the truest tale in these complicated times – they called for assistance from all the Five Kings involved in the war.

Now I have heard some say that if the King in the North were still alive, he would have answered the call, and more promptly than King Stannis did. To those doubters I would tell them this – it is easy enough to glorify the dead, to imagine acts of valor and bravery they would have committed if only they had lived. Yet the undeniable truth is this; the dead can neither save the living nor protect a kingdom, only the living can. King Stannis, with his force depleted after our inglorious defeat at Blackwater Bay, was the only one to answer the call.

Sadly, dear reader, I am not in a position to clarify how the decision to come to the aid of the Black Brothers was made. Some say it was the influence of the red priestess. Others claim it was Lord Davos who persuaded the King. And there are others still who whisper dark tales about the late King Robert's bastard, the boy brought over from Storm's End. How that boy was involved in this matter is a mystery to you and I both. That is one part of the tale, my faithful reader, that you would have to hear from the quills of others.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Life and Opinions of Ser Justin Massey, Knight**

**Chapter II**

I had intended, gentle reader, to begin this chapter by delineating the complete history of my family, from the days of Aegon the Conqueror to this very day. The Massey is an old, old family, and if our family history cannot be found in the history books written by the maesters in Citadel, it is only because such books have a tendency to neglect the smaller Houses in the Seven Kingdoms, in favor of the bigger, more powerful ones.

Whether the maesters have their own reasons for doing so, I leave it to my faithful reader to judge. I will only submit this for your consideration: human nature being what it is - and the maesters are still human, no matter what vows they took - it is more pleasant and comfortable to serve as a maester for a rich and powerful House, than to serve an impoverished one.

There are exceptions, of course, such as the late Maester Cressen, who left the service of Storm's End, the rich and powerful seat of House Baratheon, to follow King Stannis (then still Lord Stannis) to Dragonstone, a very poor seat in comparison. But these exceptions are few and far between, you will not be surprised to know, my faithful reader.

Where was I? I was about to tell you that I sadly have had to change my plan for this chapter. But only to please you, dear reader, and to put your mind at ease. For it seems that I have ended the last chapter in an unintended cliffhanger. Did King Stannis award me the land and position as Lord of Winterfell? Am I now Lord Justin Massey, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North? And therefore tragically unable to continue telling you the tales of the War of the Five Kings?

Fear not, gentle reader, I am still, as the time of this writing, Ser Justin Massey, a knight in service to King Stannis, landless, and not yet a lord. My quill will continue to move through the pages, enlightening you, my faithful reader, of the current history of our great kingdom.

And who is to be made Lord of Winterfell, I hear you ask? _NOT_ my lifelong nemesis, Ser Richard Horpe, I can assure you of that at least. King Stannis has decided that Winterfell should be given to one of the Northern lords, to ensure the support and loyalty of the Northmen. A wise decision, I am sure.

I am sad to report, dear reader, that His Grace has been very much out of temper since the departure of Lord Davos for White Harbor. I strongly suspect that King Stannis is not satisfied with the man he chose to replace Lord Davos as his closest advisor during this absence. Of course, I could have told His Grace at once, if he had seek my counsel, that Richard Horpe would be a poor choice and an unworthy successor to Lord Davos. Alas, my opinion on the matter was never consulted.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Life and Opinions of Ser Justin Massey, Knight (Chapter III)**

I have decided, dear reader, to no longer avoid the contentious subject that must be first and foremost in your mind. The question burning through your head as you are reading my account - _when will he address this matter? Will he avoid it altogether? Can we expect honesty and sincere grappling with this important matter from him?_

You wound me with your lack of faith, reader. I remain, as always, a truth-teller, in all matters contentious or not. Yes, I am talking about the hair. Specifically, the pale-blond, flaxen color of my hair, which has led to some irresponsible speculation regarding a familial relationship between myself and the deposed Targaryens.

Upon the honor of my House, let me assure you, faithful reader, that there is not a single drop of truth in this cruel and irresponsible rumor and speculation. The Massey's family tree has had no dealings with the Targaryens at any point in history. Not very surprising, since the Targaryens tend to wed brothers and sisters to keep the bloodline pure. Nonetheless, there are many a powerful and honorable families in the Seven Kingdoms who cannot say the same thing.

There is another aspect to this speculation that I hesitate to even mention, so deeply does it wound me. Yet my duty as a faithful scribe dedicated to the truth forces me to attend to it as well. No, gentle reader, my dear and beloved late mother did not conceive me in the bed of any Targaryen, by force or willingly. I sincerely hope that I have put paid to this matter, and any and all speculation regarding it will end. The Targaryen is not a family I would be proud to be associated with, the taint of madness being so deep in their blood.

In the meantime, King Stannis' war to win the throne that is rightfully his marches on. We are to journey North, dear reader, to the land of the mountain clans, to gain their support and increase the number in our army. The North is a strange place, with their tree gods and their old ways, and I have my doubts whether support for His Grace would be forthcoming there. Yet I am but a knight in his command, and I will march with him to the ends of the earth, if he wills it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

_Reader, I married her. The Lady Asha of House Greyjoy, the only surviving child of the late Lord Balon Greyjoy, and thus by the law of the Seven Kingdoms, the rightful ruler of the Iron Islands. Will you join me to rejoice in this great and joyful news, gentle reader? Will you wish me and my new bride all the happiness possible as we embark on our new life, as husband and wife? Lord Justin Massey and Lady Asha Greyjoy, the lord and lady of the Iron Islands._

I beg for your indulgence and patience, dear reader, for in truth the above has not yet come into being. But it is my greatest hope, and my deepest desire, that I will be able to end this account - this truest and indeed most faithful account of the War of the Five Kings – with those very sentences. How did I come to meet this lady? _Is she not a prisoner of King Stannis? - _I hear some of my readers asking. All will be revealed, my faithful reader, indeed all shall be revealed, in due time.

The last time my quill roamed through these pages, we were about to journey to the land of the mountain clans in the north. "_Eat their bread and salt, drink their ale, listen to their pipers, praise the beauty of their daughters and the courage of their sons, and you will have their swords_," the boy commander of the Night's Watch had promised King Stannis. Now these things may strike you as not at all hard to endure, and indeed are very pleasurable. As for myself, I am in complete agreement with you, dear reader, but King Stannis is a different type of man altogether. My loyalty to him knows no bounds, yet I have to confess that he is not the most joyful of men, and indeed is not overly fond of the things that might elicit smiles, laughter and amusement in other men.

In fact, as we marched closer and closer to the land of the mountain clans, His Grace appeared more and more ill-at-ease, his teeth grinding louder, his jaw clenching more tightly, as if in anticipation of a truly painful and unendurable ordeal. My heart grieved for him, faithful reader, it truly did. My only consolation in the matter is that Richard Horpe - the gentleman I identified as my nemesis in a previous chapter, if you still recall, kind reader – looked as uncomfortable and ill-at-ease as the king himself. Perhaps even more so, for Horpe enjoys one thing and one thing only in life – killing other men.

Our reception by these clansmen was not as the boy commander had promised. They greeted our arrival quite coldly, colder than even the weather beyond the Wall. The coldest reception we received was from the clan leader the boy commander had told us is called Big Bucket, owing to the size of his belly. Big Bucket, or the Wull, as he is otherwise known, has the most number of men among the clan leaders, and therefore is the most influential and important to court support from.

The Wull did arrange a feast to greet our arrival, and there were indeed bread, salt and ale, as the boy commander had promised, but no piper played and no singer sang that night. The Wull smashed his ale goblet on the table after the feast had gone on for a long time in silence. "We have never heard the songs of southerners in these mountains. How about it? Will your men sing and dance for us, _Lord_ Stannis?"

I can tell you, dear reader, that King Stannis was not amused. Not amused at all. "My men are fighting men, not monkeys here to entertain you," His Grace replied, his voice cold with fury. The Wull was smiling, but it was a smile full of mockery. Blood could be spilled here tonight, that was my fear, and all will be lost. For King Stannis, and for all of his men. For myself too, of course, though I hasten to assure you, dear reader, that my own fate is the least of my consideration.

It was at that moment, gentle reader, that I started singing, a thoroughly amusing song about a young man knowing the joy of women for the first time. A quite subtle song, nothing too explicit; after all, I was in the presence of Stannis Baratheon. My heart sank at first, dear reader - I am not ashamed to admit - when my song was greeted with complete silence from those present. No clapping, cheering or joining in. But moments after I completed the song, the Wull started singing other verses, cruder, bawdier and infinitely more explicit than the ones I had sung. Indeed, they made my own face blush, even though I myself am not a man inexperienced in the ways of the world. The others joined in and started singing too, northmen and King Stannis' men both, and the feast was finally as the boy commander had promised us it would be.

I should have known, however, faithful reader, that King Stannis would not greet this development with joy. He would not have tolerated this sort of behavior at his own feast. His Grace was fuming, and he was about to stand up and leave the hall, when Richard Horpe whispered something to his ear, looking very insistent. The king grew even angrier, the sound of his teeth grinding could be heard even with all the singing, but he did stay in his seat, his face frowning the whole time.

Now I am not a man blinded by personal sentiments, dear reader, and despite my own feelings for that gentleman, I will admit that on that occasion, Horpe performed a valuable service in counseling the king to stay. I very much doubt, however, that Horpe is graceful enough to acknowledge my own contribution – for I am certain you will agree, dear reader, that were it not for my singing, who knows how the feast might have ended.

It will not surprise you to know that at the end of the feast, the Wull invited me to sing one last song. I knew immediately what the right song would be – a mournful, melancholic ballad about reclaiming lost homes and lost lands and lost honor. Just the sort of thing to stir the northmen's sentiments and feelings about taking back the north from the Boltons and the Lannisters, and supporting King Stannis, I thought. I must confess, however, dear reader, that my own feelings were unexpectedly stirred as well, as genuine tears threatened to spill from my own eyes when I thought of the Massey's ancestral land, lost to us now because of the war. _I will reclaim the honor of our House_, I vowed at that moment.

Alas, I was so preoccupied I did not notice that King Stannis, the Wull and Richard Horpe had made their way to another room. I am certain, however, that His Grace would have included me in their discussion and negotiation had I not been otherwise engaged. Everything ended well that night, with the clansmen agreeing to fight for King Stannis.

Deepwood Motte was our next destination, to cast out the Ironborn from that castle. Fear not, faithful reader, I will provide a fuller and more complete account of this battle in the next chapter. But for now, I will only tell you that it is there, at Deepwood Motte, that I first caught sight of the lady of whom my quill lingered on at the beginning of this chapter. My first sighting of the Lady Asha was of her holding an axe in her hand, looking fierce and determined. I decided there and then that I would not rest until I have made her my lady wife.


End file.
